Gerencia Intermedia

El oficial anticorrupción Westman revisó nuevamente los archivos. Un hombre alemán en una posición superior de la Fundación era motivo de preocupación. 1933 fue un mal año. Henry Sommergrün era un misterio para él. Trabajó para el departamento de personal de la Fundación. Su trabajo consistía en compilar equipos de recuperación especializados. Era bueno en su trabajo, pero algo estaba mal en él. Aparecio sin mas en 1924. Era como si alguien lo hubiera purgado de los registros. Ninguna familia llamada Sommergrün tuvo un hijo llamado Henry. Sommergrün ingresó a la Fundación a través de medios no grabados y sobrevivió a 4 de sus jefes.

No era un secreto que sus equipos en su mayoría nunca recuperaban todos los objetos, pero hacían el trabajo con bajas minimas. Hubo algunas acciones financieras extrañas en sus cuentas bancarias. Una gran cantidad de dinero entrando y saliendo sin explicaciones. Era como si alguien más grande estuviera detrás de este simple empujador de lápiz. Westman quería conseguir al pez grande, pero ¿qué hacer cuando incluso el pez pequeño era difícil de encontrar? No había nada de malo en sus informes de misión. Recopiló el trabajo de los agentes de campo en una descripción de todas las cosas recuperadas y sus propiedades, las entregaria a los tipos de contención, para escribir los archivos finales.

The transactions could be easily explained by his hobby. He gambled or so he said and as long as this did not interfered with his work that was not illegal.
To make sure that it would not Westman was here keeping an eye on things. He knew the stories of organized crime that mostly had there hands in the gambling scene.

The mob and anomalies don't mix well and if Sommergrün were to owe someone there money that would put the secrecy of the whole operation into question.

The office was empty as Westman had planed. Sommergrün was like a clock. You could learn his patterns just by looking. It was not certain that good old Henry would have something incriminating in his office, but Westman still had to check. Getting the keys to all locks in this room was part of his job, but here he just had to ask the security guys.

Westman started his investigation with the desk itself. First draw and he already had something. A book detailing streams of money throughout the Foundation. It looked like Sommergrün had made sure that certain people went up the ranks faster.

While turning a page, 3 corns of rice fell to the floor. Westman just ignored them. This book alone would be enough to demote a lot of people including good old Henry, but he had bigger fish to fry. He turned another page and a slew of rice feel to the floor.
"Dam it." Henry had taken measures to check if his book had been opened. Westman ignored the rice. The next book was a shocker. A lot of items, listed with tags like, stolen, sold, for sell, and property of…
Westman dropped the book. The Insurgency.
Names, IDs, locations.

That was not one big fish.
He had caught a swarm.

The open book on the ground had released more rice all over the floor.
Westman would not let this go to waste.
He grabbed the phone on the desk and dialled up his boss.
Nothing. The line was dead. The phone in the hall was the nearest.
Westman stuffed both books in his coat and went to leave.

This was wrong. He could not even touch the door-handle. There was a burning question in his mind that needed an answer now.

20 minutes later Henry Sommergrün entered his office. Officer Westman laid flat on the ground counting rice.
Henry stepped into the office and locked the door behind him and lowered the shutters.

He opened his pocket and throw a new slew of rice onto the floor.
"Did you know how to prevent vampires from leaving there graves?"
Westman did not even looked up.

"Some use peas others use rice."

Sommergrün drew a pistol out of his pocket.
"They wont hear the shot. The shutters are down. You were dead the moment you stepped over this with ill intentions." Sommergrün pointed to a symbol engraved into the doorstep.

"This is your grave, so you cant leave it without knowing how much rice is in here. The handles are silver and blessed by me personally. These are silver bullets."

Sommergrün leaned down and raised his pistol onto one level with Westmans head.
"Lets see if I can hit the same hole a 5th time. Tell the others; Holder sends you."

The bullet past through Westmans head and landed in a small hole in the wall where it joined 4 other silver bullets each of which had passed through a head.
Westman was reduced to ash.

"On the floor are 345686 rice-corns. There are 5795590 more hidden in this room and a bag of 984453 is in the lowest draw. 7125729 in total. I count fast."

Henry cleaned up, restocked his traps and put his books back in order.

He pulled out a pocket watch.
He opened the clock and pulled a little balloon out from between the gears.
While Henry blow up the balloon it took the shape of officer Westman.

"Go tell the ones upstairs you checked me and found nothing illegal or concerning, do one more case and than commit a believable suicide, something where a body dose not need to be found."
The balloon was about to leave the room when Sommergrün handed him the bag with the ash.
"Get ride of that. Put it in the trash were it belongs."

He now had to attend to his duties as O5-H.
To fill 2 positions in the Foundation one needed to follow a strict plan.